


half-shut eyes

by ymorton



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hot Tub, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 13:25:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13054890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ymorton/pseuds/ymorton
Summary: just some dumb jontommy filth for laura, for the prompt: jontommy, "wow."





	half-shut eyes

**Author's Note:**

> FICTIONAL  
> FAKE  
> AND WORST OF ALL, UNEDITED AND PROB RIDDLED W/ TYPOS  
> PLEASE NEVER SHOW TO ANYONE INVOLVED 
> 
> title from lorde's magnets, what a hot tub tune 
> 
> im on tumblr at podsavemysoul

“Read me the door code, Alex,” Jon says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and squinting at the keypad next to the door.

“I literally just read it to you.”

“Well, read it _again_. I fucking forgot. It’s late.”

Tommy snorts and squeezes his shoulder. They’re all tired and snappish from three days on the road and even Jon, usually the peacekeeper, has been getting short-tempered. This weekend is comparatively light- two fundraisers with big-name Florida donors, a Sunday morning canvass, _and_ they get to stay in some supporter’s fancy house in Miami while she skis in the Alps. Practically vacation.

Alex sighs and digs out his Blackberry to find the email again. Two codes, a key, and one alarm later, they’re stepping into a quiet, cool entryway with ceilings so high Tommy can’t see them in the dark.

“Turn on a light, dude,” Alex advises.

“Never would’ve thought of that, thanks,” Jon mutters, fumbling around for a light switch.

“Maybe it’s a clap light,” Ronnie says, clapping. Nothing happens. “I always wanted a clap light when I was little. Tommy, do rich people have clap lights?”

“I hate to destroy your childhood dreams, Ronnie, but they really don’t,” Tommy says, reaching behind him and finally finding a switch. He flicks it on.

“Holy _shit_ ,” Alex says, as Tommy whistles low.

“Wow,” Jon breathes, dropping his bag with a thump. There’s a big glass window at the end of the hall with a view of the beach, Miami lights twinkling in the distance, and a polished open staircase up to the second floor.

“Is this real?” Ronnie says, blinking. “Are we actually here right now and not in the fucking Pad?”

“Hey, don’t speak ill of the Pad,” Tommy says, picking up Jon’s bag. “I call best room.”

“Absolutely not,” Alex says, shoving him. “This is probably exactly like your childhood home, Thomas Vietor the Fourth. Let the peasants have a shot at royalty for once.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy laughs. Jon’s walking towards the view, gait a little unsteady. He was carsick for the last couple hours and they had to stop a few times so he could gag on the side of the highway.

“You good, man?” Tommy calls, and Jon nods without turning around. He puts a hand on the window. Tommy follows him.

“Nice, huh?”

“So nice,” Jon says, sounding dazed.

“You feeling better?”

Jon nods, shoots him a little smile. He looks less pale than he did in the car. “Just tired.”

“Me too,” Tommy says, dropping his forehead to Jon’s shoulder. He breathes there for a minute. “How lame am I if I go straight to bed?”

“Not lame,” Jon says loyally.

“Don’t lie, it’s kinda lame. It’s only like 9PM.”

Jon laughs a little.

“You deserve it,” he says, clapping Tommy on the back and stepping away, so Tommy has to lift his head. “How many miles did you drive today?”

“Too fucking many.”  

“You should get some sleep.”

Tommy yawns, eyes watering. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jon squeezes his shoulder, once, and turns away.

\---

Tommy tosses his suitcase on the desk, brushes his teeth, and crawls into bed, passing out before he can even check his Blackberry.

He wakes up from an uneasy dream and rolls over, groaning. The iHome on the nightstand says 11:30. Unless it’s 11:30 AM, that means Tommy only slept for like two hours.

He drags himself upright and pads out to the kitchen, almost getting lost in the process. Eventually he finds it, and he’s looking through the fridge when a voice says- “Hey, man.”

It’s Jon, sitting at the kitchen counter with his laptop open front of him.

“Hey,” Tommy says, shutting the fridge. “Where are the others?”

“They went out. Some club downtown.” Jon yawns into his elbow and takes a sip from a bottle of beer next to his computer.

“You didn’t want to?”

Jon shrugs. “I’m tired.”

That’s not a real excuse. They’re always tired, and they’ll be tired for the next six months at least, and then for another six months if they win the nomination. Tommy can’t even think about what comes after that.

Tommy doesn’t call him out though. He just slides into the stool next to Jon’s and grabs his beer.

“There’s more in the fridge,” Jon says, squinting at his computer.

“You working?” Tommy asks, leaning over to peer at the screen. Jon coughs and shuts the laptop.

“Not really. Just messing around.”

“With what?”

“Nothing, dude.”

“No, c’mon. Let me see.” Tommy reaches for his laptop and Jon laughs and pushes his hand away.

“ _Nothing_ ,” he says. “Just- acceptance speech stuff. Nothing.”

He sounds shy. Tommy huffs a laugh.

“Getting ahead of yourself there, buddy.”

“Shut up.” Jon picks up his laptop gently like it’s something precious and slides off the stool. “Maybe I’ll turn in. I was gonna wait up and make sure they didn’t get like kidnapped, but I’m fucking tired.”

Tommy watches him, barefoot in his boxers, hugging his laptop to his chest. He swallows and says, impulsively, “You know, they have a hot tub. It said in the email.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Go in naked, I'm gonna. Or- or in your underwear.” Tommy coughs. “Whatever.”

He reaches for Jon’s abandoned beer and takes a swig. “We should go in before bed. Before the others get back and fuck it up. Ronnie’ll probably puke in it.”

Jon breathes out a laugh, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “They’re so fucking dumb for letting us stay here.”

“C’mon,” Tommy says, trying to sound like he doesn’t care one way or the other. “It’ll help you sleep.”

“Don’t need any help sleeping,” Jon mutters, but he relents, shrugs a nod. “Lemme put this in my room.”

“Meet you out there,” Tommy says. “You want another beer?”

“Yeah.” Jon’s mouth curves up. “Thanks, man.”

\---

Jon takes forever. Tommy’s loose and already sweating by the time Jon finally steps out onto the deck, a towel wrapped around his waist.  

“Hey,” he calls.

“Hey. Finally.” Tommy slings his arms over the edge of the hot tub, holding Jon’s beer out to him. Jon takes it and takes a long gulp, still holding the towel around him with one hand. He takes another sip of beer, looking sideways over at Tommy.

“Dude,” Tommy says, leaning back and closing his eyes like he couldn’t care less. “I won’t look. Just get the fuck in here.”

Jon grumbles, but a minute later Tommy hears the splashing sounds of him climbing in. The water rises up to his chin and Tommy opens his eyes.

Jon has his head tipped back, eyes shut in bliss. His mouth’s hanging open as he breathes deep. It tugs at something in Tommy’s stomach, makes him itch to touch. He puts his arms over the back of the hot tub for something to do.

Finally Jon blinks his eyes open, and grins sheepishly when he sees Tommy watching him.

“Feels good,” Tommy says.

Jon nods, letting out a deep breath. “Feels fucking amazing. Good call.”

“Right?” Tommy laughs and looks up at the night sky. “I can’t believe we’re here.”

“Me neither.”

“Like- what is our life right now?”

Jon laughs. “I don’t even know, man.”

Tommy wipes sweat off his forehead. “So, what’s in that acceptance speech you were writing? I mean, other than like, your standard hope and change shit.”

Jon ducks his head, laughing. “Shut up, asshole. You love my standard hope and change shit.”

“I’m serious, I wanna know.”

“Nothing yet.” He rubs his hand over his buzzed scalp. “Just- just thoughts. Just, you know, thinking about stuff we’re seeing on the road. The people we’re meeting. Nothing concrete.”

Tommy doesn’t get how he can do that, spin gold out of the shit in his brain. He doesn’t get how Jon’s mind works. He took a poetry class for an easy credit in college and it was the same feeling of like- utter confusion. Reading Jon’s speeches makes him feel like he can barely string a sentence together.

“You really think he’s gonna win?” he asks. It’s the same question he asks himself every fucking night when he’s trying to fall asleep.

Jon rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m not like writing an actual acceptance speech, don’t be a dick-“

“No, I mean it. I’m asking.” Tommy tips his head back til he’s looking at the stars again.

“No idea,” Jon says after a minute. “I think he should. I think we’ll be a lot worse off if he doesn’t. But like, who knows.”

Tommy swallows. He hates thinking about that, the after part, if this all falls through. Most of the time he doesn’t have to, because they’re moving too fast.

“Jesus, Tommy,” Jon says with a laugh. “We’re in a fucking hot tub in some fancy house in Miami, why are you making me think about losing?"

Tommy snorts. “Sorry.”

“You asshole.” Jon’s grinning at him, tongue tucked between his teeth. Tommy wants to kiss him. But they don’t- do that. Other stuff they can do, but not that. He scrubs his hands hard through his sweaty hair to distract himself.

“Sorry,” he says again. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Let’s not talk,” Jon corrects. He shuts his eyes again, sighing. “God, I could fall asleep in here.”

“Me too.”

“Imagine the headlines.” Tommy sees his mouth curve up at the edge as he talks. “Obama staffers found naked and drowned in a Miami hot tub. Axe would dig our bodies up and kill us again.”

“Was it a homoerotic suicide pact? Did they crack under the pressure?” Tommy says in a dramatic voice, and Jon snorts, opens his eyes and grins at Tommy.

“You’re an idiot.”

“ _You’re_ an idiot,” Tommy says, splashing him. Jon splashes him back, and Tommy retreats to the other side of the hot tub, dragging his hands through his wet hair.

“You wanna, like.” He says it easily so it won’t matter if Jon says no. Jon’s said no a couple times before. “You wanna fuck around?”

Jon’s eyes go dark. He nods but he doesn’t move, so Tommy stands up, water dripping, and goes to him. Jon’s head tips back when Tommy climbs on his lap.

“Hey,” Tommy says, when he’s balanced. He shakes his hair out on him and Jon laughs softly.

“Hey.” Jon’s looking up at him. He licks a drop of water off the side of his mouth. “What about the others?”

“It’s only midnight. They won’t be back for a while.”

Jon nods, gaze dropping to Tommy’s mouth. Tommy inhales shakily and reaches out, runs his hand over Jon’s scalp.

“Hey,” he says again, like an idiot. Jon doesn’t say anything, because Tommy’s leaning down to kiss him.

Jon’s mouth opens under his and Tommy licks inside, cupping Jon’s face in both hands. He’s so hot, mouth so soft, and Tommy squeezes his thighs involuntarily around Jon’s, something clenching in his stomach.

Jon groans against him, hands dragging up Tommy’s sides. He feels so good under him, solid, and his _mouth_ \- Tommy doesn’t get how they haven’t done this yet. It feels incredible. They should’ve been doing this since the first time they hooked up. What a waste.

Tommy sucks Jon’s tongue for a long minute, tasting him, until he has to pull away for air. Jon has two hands solid and steady on the small of Tommy’s back, under the bubbling water.

“Should we- uh, should we go to, like. Your room?” he asks, chest heaving. He’s breathless. Tommy made him breathless.  

“Not yet,” he says, leaning down to kiss him again. Jon’s mouth is lush and Tommy grips his broad shoulders, kisses him hard, tries to get Jon to make noise. He pulls a soft sigh out of him, and then a low groan, and then-

“Hey!” they both hear, and Tommy pulls away, splashing backwards in the tub. It’s Ronnie, backlit in the open sliding glass door. Tommy can’t see his face.

“Yo,” Tommy calls. Jon’s eyes glint in the darkness, wide and scared. He coughs and slides to the other side of the hot tub as Ronnie stumbles over.  

“Helloooo,” he says, balancing himself on the side of the tub. “Can we join you? Or is this, like, a private party?”

“Fuck off,” Tommy says, as Jon stammers, “No, it’s - it’s fine.”

“Looked pretty private to me-” Ronnie starts, wiggling his eyebrows.

Tommy cuts him off. “Shut the fuck up and get in here. Did you lose Alex? Where’d you go? A club?”

“ _Three_ clubs,” Ronnie says proudly, wriggling out of his shirt. He drops it on the deck and starts on his jean zipper. “It was fucking wild. I danced on a table. And look what we bought.”

He holds up a cigarette, or maybe- Tommy snorts. “Is that weed?”

“No, it’s crack, I got it from a homeless dude.” Ronnie fumbles in his jeans pockets and groans, yells back at the house- “Alex, get a lighter!”

Jon laughs weakly as Ronnie steps carefully into the tub, holding the joint above his head. “Where’d you get that? For real, I mean.”

“I know people, Favs. Or - Alex’s friend from college knows people. Whatever.”

Alex steps out onto the deck, swaying. “What’d you say, Ronnie?”

“A lighter, you idiot. For the joint.” Ronnie laughs as Alex stumbles back inside, and then gives them both a weird look. Tommy stares right back, steady. “You guys have fun without us?”

“Kinda tired,” Jon says stiffly, avoiding their eyes, pushing himself up. “Might go to bed, actually-”

“Nooo, dude, you gotta smoke up. This is good shit. Alex’s friend from college is like a millionaire. His dad invented sunglasses or something.”

“Invented sunglasses?” Tommy laughs. “You’re wasted. There’s no way he invented sunglasses.”

“Maybe he started like, Sunglass Hut. Or Ray-Bans. I can’t remember. The point is, you gotta try it. C’mon, Favs, we’re basically on vacation.”

After a minute, Jon sinks back into the tub.

“Okay,” he says, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. Tommy tries not to feel too pleased. “Fine. One hit.”

“Nice,” Ronnie says, flicking water at him. He tips his head back to yell at the door. “Alex! The lighter! Hurry the fuck up!” 

\---

Tommy stares up at the ceiling. He’s high as shit, buzzing, and he can’t fall asleep. He fumbles for his phone and rolls over onto his belly to tap out a message.

_Dude i can’t sleep. Haha_

He hits send and shuts his aching eyes. That was stupid. Jon’s probably asleep, and he’ll wake up in the morning and know that Tommy was thinking about him. Wanting him.

Tommy rolls back over and groans, just as his phone lights up silently in the mess of covers. He grabs for it. It’s Jon.

_Me neither haha_

_What was in that shit im messed up_

Tommy bites his lip. He’s too stoned to think of a clever way to ask so he just types- _Wanna come over?_

 _Lol_ , Jon sends back. _We’re in the same house._

Tommy snorts and taps out- _You knwo what i mean_

Jon doesn’t respond. Tommy sets his phone down and shuts his eyes again. He’s half-asleep when the door creaks open.

“Tommy?” Jon asks, just as he stumbles over something in the darkness and bangs into the wall with a thump. He starts giggling.

Tommy sits up. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jon says, breathless with laughter, staggering forward. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Tommy kneels on the bed, something bubbling up happily in his chest. “C’mere, man.”

Jon falls into him, still laughing. Tommy finds his mouth in the dark and Jon makes a satisfied murmur against him, grabbing Tommy’s shoulders. They overbalance and tumble backwards onto the bed and that’s- it hurts for a second, Jon’s weight on him, and then the pressure feels so good. Tommy can’t breathe and he can’t stop kissing him, can’t stop running his hands over the shifting muscles in Jon’s back. Jon’s just as eager, mouth open, rocking a thigh slowly between Tommy’s legs. It’s exactly what Tommy wanted when he texted him.

Jon pulls away, breathing hard.

“I’m so fucking stoned,” he mumbles. He ducks his face into Tommy’s neck and laughs. “Dude. Tomorrow’s gonna be rough.”

Tommy doesn’t want to think about tomorrow. He wants to stay right here, in this big fancy bed with Jon. All fucking day. Until Jon’s boneless, til his eyes go all dark and liquid like they do after he comes really hard. Tommy wants to wear him out.

He almost sobs from the unfairness of it. They never have any fucking _time_.

Jon’s still rocking against him, an idle rhythm, nuzzling his open mouth against Tommy’s neck. Tommy exhales, tries to stay present. Jon’s here right now.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, tries to gather his scattered thoughts. It all feels so hazily good, Jon moving against him, the jolts of pleasure as they rock together, but Tommy wants more. He urges Jon over onto his side, and then his back, and then he kisses him again, for a slow while, until Jon opens sweetly for him, mouth slack so Tommy can do what he wants.

It’s hard to pull away but Tommy does. He sits up, shakes himself. Jon’s hard in his boxers and his eyes go dark when Tommy starts to pull them off, tugging them down over his knees and then his ankles.

Tommy drops them on the ground, looks him over. Jon’s biting his lip.

“Tommy,” he says, a frog in his throat, reaching a hand down to cover his erection. He coughs. “Dude-”

“Shh, can I, just, like-” Tommy runs his hand down Jon’s stomach, losing the thread of what he was saying. He presses his hand flat right above Jon’s dick, and then slides down his body, puts his cheek against Jon’s belly. Jon’s still a little damp from the hot tub, or maybe from sweat. He smells like chlorine.

Jon tenses under him. “What are you doing?”

Tommy’s not entirely sure yet. Jon feels so good under him, and Tommy turns his head until his mouth is right there by Jon’s dick, puffing hot air against it. He reaches for it with one hand, licks his lips.

“Shit,” Jon says, shakily. “Tommy. Dude, you don’t have to-”

He shudders hard when Tommy puts his lips around the tip of his cock. For a minute that’s all Tommy wants, mouthing at the head, tasting it. Jon tastes good, clean, and Tommy starts salivating from the weight on his tongue. He shuts his eyes and drifts.

“Tommy, _fuck_ ,” Jon groans, wriggling under him. Tommy looks up blearily, licking his mouth. He has no idea how much time just passed.

“What?”

“Fucking- do it,” Jon breathes, eyes scrunched up. His hand’s clenched tight in the sheets.  

“Do what?” Tommy asks, sliding his hand around Jon’s dick to keep him hard. He jerks him a few times and Jon’s head drops back onto the mattress with a thunk.

“Please,” he says, breathless.

“Tell me what you want me to do.” Tommy can’t breathe either. He just- loves this. He loves it. Jon is so perfect like this. Tommy’s so fucking high and Jon is so _perfect_.

“Tommy,” Jon says, close to a whine. “C’mon. Fuck.”

His dick twitches in Tommy’s hand and Tommy licks the head gently, peeking out from his closed fist. Jon squirms on the bed, says again- “ _Tommy_.”

“Say you want me to blow you,” Tommy says, voice hoarse. He sucks on the head again when Jon doesn’t obey, works his tongue against the slit until Jon’s gasping. It feels so good in his mouth he almost forgets the game, almost lets himself just-

“Tommy,” Jon mumbles, and Tommy pulls himself away.

“Look at me,” he says, lifting his head. “And tell me you want me to suck your dick. C’mon.”  

Jon looks at him, eyes red and fucked-up, tongue running along his bottom lip.

“I want you to - to suck my dick,” he says finally, voice small. He laughs embarrassedly. “Jesus, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” God, that’s headier than Tommy expected. “You want to get off?”

“ _Yes_.” Jon shuts his eyes. “Dude. Please.”

“Yeah?” Tommy gives him a couple tight strokes for saying it.

“Yeah,” Jon sighs, moving under his hands, hips lifting. “Yes. Please, Tommy.”

 _Love when you say please_ , Tommy almost says, but he fills his mouth with Jon’s dick instead.

He’s too high to go fast, too engrossed by the feeling, and after a while Jon’s whimpering again, twisting under him.

“Tommy, _god_ ,” he gasps. “I- I need to-”

He’s so hard in Tommy’s hand, so sensitive he shivers when Tommy exhales against it. It must hurt, Tommy thinks distantly. His own dick’s starting to hurt, trapped between him and the mattress, throbbing in his boxers.

He nudges Jon’s knee up, pushes it gently down to the side so he’s open. Jon lifts his head.

“Tommy,” he says, sounding scared.

“Shh, dude, it’s fine,” Tommy mumbles, spitting in his other hand, reaching under him. Jon jerks at the first touch of fingers against his hole.

“Fuck,” he says, tightly. He’s holding himself still, clenched against Tommy’s finger when Tommy presses down, moves his thumb in a slow circle. “Fuck. Tommy.”

“It’s cool,” Tommy murmurs, rubbing gently. He remembers and leans forward to suck Jon’s cock into his mouth. Jon’s even harder somehow, thick against Tommy’s tongue, and he’s relaxing under Tommy’s fingers, almost letting him in. Almost.

Tommy lifts his head and Jon groans in frustration.

 _"Dude_ ,” he chokes.

“Wait,” Tommy says, crawling over him, fumbling in the night stand. “Just wait a minute. You think they have lube?”

Jon huffs a laugh.

“Fuck are you trying to do?” he asks, aiming for casual and missing it by a mile. He closes his legs, thighs shifting under Tommy as Tommy sorts through the contents of the nightstand. Lotion, nail polish, condoms-

“Finger you,” Tommy says, distracted. He finds a bottle of lube and grins, tosses it behind him on the bed. He almost grabs a condom too and then thinks better of it.

Jon laughs again, a little panicked this time. “Thought you were blowing me.”

Tommy snorts, picks up a little pink toy between two fingers and holds it up for Jon to see. “Check this out. Cute.”

“Ew, dude, don't touch that.” Jon goes red. "What even is that? It's tiny." 

Tommy twists the end and it buzzes in his hand. He raises an eyebrow. “Vibrator, I guess.”

“Jesus,” Jon laughs, head collapsing back on the bed. He rubs his hands over his face. “These people are freaks.”

“Dude, it’s just a vibrator,” Tommy says, amused. “It’s not like they have giant anal beads or something.”

“What the fuck are anal beads?” Jon says, brow furrowed. Tommy looks over at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“How the fuck would I-” Jon stops and throws an arm over his eyes, jaw clenching. “Shut up.”

Tommy twists the vibrator again, all the way up, tests it against the tip of his finger. He looks over at Jon, laying there with his eyes covered and his cheeks flushed, and then twists it off and sets it back in the drawer. 

Tommy settles back between his legs, grabs for the lube. Jon’s still not looking so Tommy leans down to slurp at the head of his cock, wake him the fuck up.

Jon jerks under his mouth and says, “T-Tommy. Jesus.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me, bro. We’re not done.”

Jon peers down at him.

“I haven’t-” he says, swallowing. “Um. I’ve never, uh- no one’s ever- with their fingers. I haven’t- done that.”

“For real? Not even with a girl?”

Jon looks embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters.

He doesn’t have to be sorry, but Tommy doesn’t tell him that. He’s pretty sure Jon likes to be sorry about stuff.

“Catholic school, I get it,” he says, pushing Jon’s legs open again. He snorts. “Not the best place to experiment.”   

Jon goes red and licks his mouth. His eyes are a little unfocused.

“I thought maybe in DC though,” Tommy says, carefully. He slides a slick thumb against Jon’s taint, rubs him, back and forth. “Girls in DC are crazy sometimes. I had a girl who wanted to fuck me with a strap-on. On our second date.”

Jon lets out a strangled breath. He’s starting to move, little rolls of his hips.

“Did you do it?” he asks, eyes fluttering shut.

“No,” Tommy says truthfully. “She was hot, though. Like she was cool.”

He slips his thumb against Jon’s hole, watching him closely. “Would you ever do that?”

Jon presses down against his hand.

“No,” he says, voice breaking, not opening his eyes. 

“Why not?” Tommy’s working him open on one finger, very slow. He feels like time’s slowed down, like the world’s narrowed to just him and Jon, just this room. Just Jon’s body under his.

“I- I don’t know,” Jon gasps. “I- I, fuck, Tommy. Tommy.”

“This feels good, though, right?” Tommy crooks his finger and Jon makes a good sound, a desperate sound. “You like it?”  

Jon’s gripping the sheets again, thigh shaking where it’s pressed open against the bed.  

“You like it,” Tommy says again, low. He can’t stop watching Jon’s face as he opens up. He slips in two slick fingers, rubs his knuckles right in the spot that made Jon make that sound before. Jon shivers. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Jon chokes, and Tommy takes pity on him and lowers his head again, slides his mouth around Jon’s cock.

Jon’s been waiting a while and it’s over pretty quick once Tommy stops fucking around. He comes with a whimper, two of Tommy’s fingers hooked inside him, hips jerking in this desperate way that makes Tommy’s dick throb in his boxers. Tommy lifts his head quickly, coughing, and angles Jon’s cock so he spills the rest on his belly.

“Fuck yeah,” he says, staring. Jon’s sticky, stomach heaving as he gasps. Tommy shoves his boxers down and groans with relief when he gets a hand around himself. “Fuck.”

Jon’s voice is hoarse. “Do you, uh. Do you want me to, like-”

Tommy’s not gonna last. He grabs Jon’s hand off the bed and puts it around his cock, puts his own over it and squeezes. “Just- just that. Just like that.”

Jon’s wide-eyed but his grip is tight and hot. Tommy takes his hand off for a minute to grab the lube, tugs Jon’s palm open and gets it slick. Jon puts it back on Tommy’s dick without prompting this time, jerks him off fast with his eyes fixed on his hand, mouth open like he’s concentrating.

It’s so fucking hot Tommy can’t take it. Jon’s smooth hand on him, his long fingers. His narrow focused face, all his attention on Tommy, on the dick in his hand. Tommy gasps and thrusts forward into his grip, catches himself with a hand on the bed as he finishes over Jon’s fingers, dripping onto Jon’s stomach.

He collapses a little, face in Jon’s neck. His head’s spinning. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, and Jon huffs a low laugh, agreeing. Tommy lifts his head and looks at him. Jon's eyes are soft and dark just the way Tommy wanted. 

He wants to kiss Jon again, a nice slow easy kiss, but Jon gets out from under him and rolls away before he can. He sits up, and Tommy flops helplessly over onto his back. Fine. He already had his turn to kiss Jon. He can’t get greedy.

“Shit,” Jon says, sounding like he’s just surfaced from underwater. “I’m fucked up.”

Tommy’s fuzzy too, but things are starting to come back into sharp relief, especially since he can see his Blackberry blinking on the nightstand. It’s 2:00 AM. They have to be up in five hours.

“Yeah, me too,” he says vaguely.

“I need to take a shower,” Jon mutters.

“You can use mine if you want, I don't care.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just, uh, go back to my room.” he gestures at the door. “Uhh. What time are you getting up tomorrow?”

“Seven?”  
  
“Cool.” Jon stands up quickly, grabbing for his boxers. “I’ll set my alarm.”

Tommy nods, staring at the ceiling. He feels weird. Emptied out. Maybe it’s just the weed. Or maybe it’s some side effect of kissing Jon, like he’s gonna feel hollow until they do it again. Tommy swallows hard. That sounds dumb as shit, even in his head.

“See you tomorrow,” Jon mumbles, not looking at him.

“Good night,” Tommy says, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Jon shuts the door softly behind him.


End file.
